


Naught but Dust

by Jarakrisafis



Series: Isana [8]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24254620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: "Some have everything and lose it. Some have nothing and gain everything. Some carve their own path."That's meant to be some intelligent quote from some inspirational dwarf. So when Brosca comes back to Orzammar and sweeps you out of the dirt, the way the human warden refused to? Damn sodding right you're going.
Series: Isana [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1568344
Kudos: 1





	1. 9:30 Dragon, 12 Kingsway, Orzammar

You didn't expect him to come here. No. Be honest with yourself now. You totally did. Brosca doesn't have you there to stop him anymore, for you were always the voice of caution, of reason. He charged in and held the attention and you slid in behind and hit the unprotected backs. Not that he couldn't sneak, when he was reminded that a job had to be quiet, that is.

Nobody is holding him back now, his daggers are dripping red across the ground, across the back of the mabari he has one hand at the neck of, the beast crouching, tense, ready to charge at a moments notice. For all Faren's stillness you know he's just as ready. His other companion, a heavily muscled dwarf, is leaning on his shield, apparently unconcerned by the fast approaching threat of violence.

Jarvia sounds smug, confident. You're not so sure. You remember that last trip through Beraht's den. You remember the demon of steel you fought beside, or perhaps you should say: you fought behind. Twin blades flashing ahead of you in the dim lighting, he was unstoppable then. Now, he's filled out, muscle clear even beneath his good quality armour, they've been feeding him well topside; he's probably even better now.

You flinch as his eyes focus on you, your name from his lips is familiar, you've never heard the hint of pain, a wordless 'why?' turned in your direction as he asks Jarvia how she won your loyalty. Beside you Jarvia chuckles, and it is all you can do not to look away at the shock, then denial that flash across Faren's face so fast you're not sure anyone but you really saw them as he settles into a smoldering anger.

“I never would have betrayed you.” His words are quiet, so sure of himself.

“You got too much sun on the brain, you forgot what it's like, when Beraht died Jarvia came out on top, she's got the swords, the coin and she's got the bed where I sleep. If you were here you would have done the same.” The words are like bitter ashes in your mouth, an excuse for nothing and everything. Because you didn't have a choice. He knows that. Dust town only gives two choices. Living or dying. You chose to live, to survive. He's not stupid, he'd have fallen in line, played the game, bowed to Jarvia, done whatever it takes to survive. 

But that moment, it feels like days ago not mere hours, when you saw him again in dust town, saw him and said nothing. He'd have spoken then, he'd have done what you couldn't. He's always told you the truth, he wouldn't have betrayed you. He's always been reckless, unafraid to do what needs doing. It doesn't hurt anymore to admit that you can never be as strong as him. You're a coward. You always will be without him. He was your rock to stand beside, to keep you strong.

You've needed him and he wasn't here. What does he expect? 

“I know you couldn't really turn on me.” There's something there, an entreaty, an opportunity hidden in his words. Do you dare take it?

“No,” Jarvia laughs, so self assured, “we'll see who holds the leash here.” You know what she's going to say next and you realise in this moment that seems to stretch on as you hear her order you to kill them, that there's never truly been a choice.

You forget how short battles are, over so quickly, just flashing steel, screams and the scent of blood and it's done.

“Leske.” You blink, finding tears in your eyes as you struggle to stand, blood coating your hands, blades forgotten on the floor. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to. He understands all too well. Dust town doesn't give luxuries like choices, it breaks down every wall, until there's nothing left but to make the best of what's left in the rubble.

Hate and love are dangerous things. Jarvia used them, twisted Dwarva around her fingers and tied them to her, but she never really understood. Not until the end. Not till surprise widened her eyes as you buried your blades in her chest, as close as you were she didn't even try to block it, your blades slipping free as she collapsed.

You pull away as his companion approaches, he'd been checking for traps and any remaining carta that hadn't run when Jarvia fell, members that may have been hiding away and planning to ambush them, although you're sure that any smart members that might be left have gone to ground by now. Word doesn't take long to spread down here.

Faren kneels, passing your blades up before searching Jarvia's body till he pulls out a key. “Let's go.” You step into place beside him without a second thought and the Mabari huffs, head cocked before taking up his other side. You have to stop yourself from turning to look at the other, as yet un-named warrior as he pads along (surprisingly quietly for a dwarf in full plate, you sense Faren's been teaching him) behind you because you know he could crush your skull with the warhammer he was so easily using on your former associates if you try anything.

Later, you know Faren will want to talk, but for now, you have a job to finish.

It's not far to get out, neither you nor Faren have forgotten the route you took last time, although the blockage at the end is unexpected. Still, the wall falls to a charge by his companion, the plate wearing dwarf, who trips over the collapsing stone and rolls through the newly made opening to sprawl on the ground, plaster dust and bricks settling around him and Faren heads for the shopkeeper who is staring, bemusement and outrage warring for dominance on his features at the newly made doorway into his shop.

You don't hear what is said, the situation is too familiar and you chuckle, that quickly becoming a full on laugh at the growing outrage and indignation on the traders face as Faren gestures back at the hole and the dust covered warrior who's pulling himself to his feet with a negligent wave of one blood covered glove.

You rub the brindled tan head that pushes under your arm, looking down at the huge hound who is giving you an inquisitive stare, “long story Salroka, long story.”


	2. 9:30 Dragon, 28 Firstfall, Ferelden

This is still one of the best and worst decisions you've ever made, to leave Dust Town and head for the surface as a permanent thing. Sure you're alive, that's gotta be a plus point, but... The surface without the option of sneaking back down to the Stone. It's almost a relief that Faren didn't really give you a choice in coming with him after you chose to put your knives into Jarvia. Because you know yourself and you know without that order you'd make the same choice you did last time. To stay in the dark with the Stone that you know. You're a fucking coward is what you are.

The Mabari whuffs and you start scratching behind the ear again, not sure when you'd stopped. The hound is the only thing here that's not judging you. Or at least, not in the way everyone else is. It has such a simple way of looking at things: you're not a current threat to it's dwarva, ergo you're not a threat. You have no allusions that should you lift a blade towards them you'll be moved firmly back into the threat category, but a dog doesn't do potentials and maybe and what ifs. It judges on only what it sees.

You wish the rest of the travelling party could do the same. You're always feeling eyes on you, watching for... You're not sure what. The moment you're going to turn on them and stick knives in them too? Ha. What a good plan that'd be, even if you managed to escape their vengeance, (and that's not likely given that they have a fucking Mabari which could pick your scent out of a crowded marketplace without even trying), where would you go? Beyond that, could you outrun a fucking blight? Not likely.

It's somewhat ironic that the only ones that appear to be close to accepting you is the sodding exiled prince and his equally exiled Second. And wasn't that a surprise to find out. The two bodyguards Faren had been wandering round Orzammar with were the new Kings brother and a member of a fairly high rank warrior caste house. So getting less suspicion from them than from the humans, yeah, weird.

"Do you ever feel out of place here?"

The Mabari shifts its head from his lap, looking up at you as it tilts its head before barking once, sharp and short. You can almost imagine that was an agreement. They said it was intelligent. You'd kept quiet at that point as one of the human mages had snapped out that it was certainly more intelligent than certain members of the party - You hadn't known if she'd been referring to you or to somebody else.

"Yeah, you're the only hound here, I'm the only duster here since, you know, Faren's a Warden now."

Another bark, then a whine, ears pricking forwards as if curious how that makes a difference.

"He's changed." He's stronger, faster, and with a stare that you swear you've only seen on the most hardened of dusters. The ones with grey threading their beards who you do not fuck with because to get grey in your beard in dust town? You've got some fucking skills somewhere.

A faint growl and the ears press backwards.

"Hey, I didn't say it was a bad thing salroka." You hold both hands up, trying not to focus on the very, very sharp canines that have just been exposed and the memory of those same fangs closing around a throat and ripping.

A happy bark. You slowly put your arms down and dare another scratch behind an ear.

"Do you think I might be able to change?" You're surprised by the wistfulness in your own voice and dart a glance round, but no, everybody else is paying them no mind. Just you and the Mabari out of the way having a friendly chat.

The hound huffs before planting a lick on one cheek. You're not sure if that's encouragement but you'll take it. And that's clearly a sign that you're losing your mind. Who takes life advice from a Mabari? Maybe the sky and the trees and the lack of rock is getting to you. That must be it.

The Mabari growls and you pull your hand away from the ear with a startled yelp, wondering what you've done wrong now, you didn't even say anything this time. It bounds off, and you're even more confused when you're presented with a small branch upon it's return. You're not on fire duty, nor do you need weapon hafts, or a makeshift club, or well, anything that might require wood. And yes, you're still thrown by the sheer scope of wood options here, it was a sodding rare commodity in Dust Town and now you can gather more than you've ever seen at one time in under a day. The hound barks again, nudging your hand.

"She wants you to throw it for her salroka." You raise an eyebrow at Faren as he passes by with an armload of firewood, that at least explains the Mabari's sudden stick finding abilities.

You pick it up, grimacing a little at the drool that ends up on your hand and give it a throw, watching the brindled hide bounce after it. You have to laugh when she returns, stick clamped in her jaws, her rear end all but vibrating and you can swear she's trying to say something. Stop brooding, her eyes are saying. Stop thinking on the past and the future and just live for now. It's good advice - from a Mabari.

"Okay, okay, you win." You grab the stick and she obligingly lets go, already dancing in place as she waits, then she's gone in an explosion of energy and you don't bother wiping your drool covered hand this time, she'll be back again. It doesn't matter what the humans think. So yeah, definitely going crazy. Can't say it's a bad thing though. As you sit on a tree stump in the middle of nowhere throwing a drool covered stick for a Mabari that could tear you apart if she wanted to you're suddenly aware that you feel more alive than you have in a long time.


End file.
